


The Hardest Part Comes After

by OddKid42



Category: Watchmen (2009), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative Universe - Rorschach lives, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of Suicide Attempt, description of corpses, epilogue au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22087081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OddKid42/pseuds/OddKid42
Summary: Walter wasn't killed in the Arctic. For a lot of reasons, this fate is worse.
Relationships: Dan Dreiberg/Rorschach
Comments: 3
Kudos: 77





	The Hardest Part Comes After

Rorschach watched Daniel read while his clothes dried next to the fireplace. Surprisingly, or not Rorschach thought since misfortune tended to plague the poor, Daniel’s brownstone was left standing undamaged from the blast. Only the windows had been shattered when they returned from Veidt’s Arctic base.

Rorscach was suffering from hypothermia and only partially conscious for Daniel’s reeling horror and threats for trying to kill himself. Daniel cursed the glass shards across the comforter as he shook it out, and the shards tinked against the floor like beads. Rorschach was frozen next to the doorframe where Daniel had half-dragged, half-led him. His head was dipped; he could no longer remember if it was because of the numb apathy towards himself or the hypothermia. (Daniel pretended that it was the hypothermia afterwards. He didn’t mention the flight back to the epicenter either or what had been said in the Arctic. Only the clear sudden flare of hatred when Adrian was mentioned by people around them proved that he hadn’t forgotten. Medically-speaking, it was also the hypothermia.)  


When he had shaken off the glass, Daniel hugged him with the comforter, his hands against Walter’s back. He was crying. They both were. Rorschach couldn’t recall how they reached the downstairs sofa or at what point Daniel took the damp clothes off of him, only the vague memory of Daniel’s back still in the Night Owl armour starting the wood fire as he held a cup of warm liquid wrapped in a layer of blankets. He only drank it when Daniel told him to. He must have fallen asleep because the next memory is realizing that Daniel was lying near him, next to him, and wrapping his arms around him.  


“What was I supposed to do if John killed you?” Daniel was no longer angry.  


Rorschach’s mind was too muddled to speak. The old habit of his childhood, to fall asleep after something traumatic, was surfacing again, so he let himself sleep naked in Daniel’s comforter with his partner’s forehead pressed against his and arms wrapped around him.  


He awoke to Daniel pulling on boots. “I’m going to help dig out the bodies.” Rorschach sat up, lost and silent. “Stay here, please.” Then he left.  


Rorschach took his uniform when he left Daniel’s house. He realized his mistake soon after. People cowered, or they came after him demanding answers that he could not easily give. Did he know that Dr. Manhattan would kill them? He didn’t. He should have. Those two were similar enough that he believed the hatred towards him was penance for his oversight. Then Daniel cornered him and demanded that he stop wearing the suit to be attacked by people or he would patrol in his suit as well. Instead, Rorschach joined him in silently working next to each other in reconstructing the city, arriving from the partially standing ruins of his apartment. His landlady had been killed. All of the residents had been killed.  


Even working, someone would recognize him as the prophet of doom and tell him that he was right, as if he was supposed to be proud. This too, he regretted. He didn’t want this. What he thought he was accomplishing back then seemed distant to his reality now. Continuing to live felt like penance. For trying to be a hero, trying to condemn those whom he felt needed condemning. Millions of people that he did not know had died because of his hubris. There was no gray. He had killed them.  


Two weeks later, _New Frontiersman _published his journal. The article broke into world news. Manhattan killing him wouldn’t have stopped the fallout as Adrian’s name was dragged despite the repairs that his company offered New York City. Rorschach was declared a hero of truth.  
__

__They pulled out the decomposing bodies of a child and woman, killed by their building’s collapse. Once they had been pulled out and wrapped in the sheets donated by five-star hotel chains, Rorschach stepped over to where the sidewalk had crumbled from the shockwaves, out of the way of other workers. He squatted down with his knees against his chest and screamed. Daniel came over and sat down next to him, facing away to give him privacy.  
_ _

__“It’s your fault as much as mine,” Daniel said when Rorschach had pulled himself together enough to catch his breath. He was tired. Daniel was always tired now. Past Rorschach would have been satisfied with the hard muscles and lost weight, but past Rorschach was a fool.  
_ _

__“It’s not your fault, Daniel.” His voice was ragged. He felt blood trickling down his throat.  
_ _

__“Then it’s not your fault either, buddy.” They looked at each other. Daniel set a water bottle next to him. “Stay here.”  
_ _

__Daniel stiffly got up and began work again. There were so many groups that had come in to restore the city: charities, mission groups, construction workers, other countries’ specialists as a peace or friendship gesture. But it was still New York’s dead, and only other New Yorkers knew them as intimately as strangers.  
Rorschach left as Daniel continued working._ _

__  
_ _

Daniel found him again when he had come down with something and been unable to leave his basement. Rorschach, when he had woken to Daniel desperately trying to wake him, was embarrassed for falling asleep on the floor. He insisted he was fine but not being able to answer how long he had been sick gave Daniel enough incentive to hoist him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Rorschach protested but conceded that he was unwell when he fell asleep along Daniel’s shoulders as he was carried up the stairs.  


He needed fluids, needle pricks and IV drips, in the hospital before Daniel took him back to the brownstone. Something about a strain of flu and bad immune system. Rorschach felt drugged, but Daniel assured him that the IV bag only contained broad-spectrum antivirals. He slept. Daniel didn’t leave, always made soups and nagged him to drink the ginger ale slowly despite being the sweetest thing that Rorschach had tasted since the catastrophe. Throwing the drink up, the waste of it, caused him to drink it slower more than anything Daniel had said. Daniel didn’t look smug as he held the wastebasket. He seemed worried.  


“Not dying, Daniel,” he had argued against Daniel’s henpecking. The slight expression gave him away, and Rorschach studied his face. “Daniel, flu.”  


Daniel rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, and Rorschach felt disgusted at himself for being a burden. “It’s a new strain of bird flu. They have been seeing it in pigeons gathered in houses that are being cleaned.”  


Rorschach tried to process the possibility that he would die. It felt stupid and underwhelming. “Not dying.”  


Daniel’s concern faded at Rorschach’s statement, and one side of his lips tilted up into a lopsided smile. His lips pressed slightly together before he ducked his head in an exaggerated but genuinely relieved gesture. “Yeah, I know. Silly of me to worry.”  


He was the only one that Daniel still smiled at. He was the only one that Daniel had to smile at.  


He didn’t die, though Rorschach refused to acknowledge his purposeful efforts to eat what Daniel cooked for him and only grumbled about the IVs and Daniel’s assisted trips to the bathroom out of obligation. When he was healthy again, he left.

The city had collected its dead and was rebuilding. Adrian had retreated to an unknown location, and governments adamantly refused to accept his donations for repair. Rorschach was no longer shunned during patrol at night, and Daniel had returned to his day job of philanthropy, which the city had need for, and kickstarted a series of comparative and observational data sets on bird species present within the city, which scientists in unaffected areas longed for.  


The calm of it led Rorschach to where he was, sitting on Daniel’s sofa in oversized but soft long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants while his costume dried next to the fireplace and Daniel read a hardcover book. Despite Daniel having seen his ugly, human face for months, Rorschach wore the latex mask. (He could no longer claim it as his face. He had failed.)  


Daniel had the unconscious habit of reading for a while and then glancing up to look at the fire. His hair had been trimmed neat again; he bought new glasses and winter clothes from the stores reopening. The lines remained under his eyes. He didn’t smile while lost in thought. Then Rorschach would shift slightly on the couch, and Daniel would glance over surprised at his concentration breaking and smile at Rorschach’s presence before returning to reading.  


Rorschach knew when Daniel loved someone. He had seen it on his face passing by the restaurants when he pinned one-sidedly for the second Black Spectre. He had assumed that he was a replacement or some fixation with half of their city gone.  


Daniel set the bookmark in the pages and the book to the side. He leaned forward to feel the bottom of Rorschach’s undershirt before moving to lean against the bottom of the couch. “Not dry yet.” Rorschach nodded though Daniel was not looking. Daniel pushed himself up. “Here, lift your legs.”  


Rorschach stiffly allowed his feet to be lifted by Daniel as he sat down. His legs were then set on his lap, like Rorschach had stretched them out over Daniel himself.  


“It’s fine,” Daniel answered to what Rorschach didn’t say. He closed his eyes and gradually doze off. His head was rested against the sofa’s backing. His Adam’s apple rested prominently like a curve. Walter could visibly feel it, the phantom sensation of running his hand against Daniel’s neck until he hit the voice box. The sensitivity of it. In other men, it was a weakness to be exploited in a fight. On Daniel, Walter sat still watching his partner’s closed eyelids. The fan of his eyelashes. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed through his nose, mouth inanimate. On Daniel, Walter stalled, uncertain of what it was beyond different. It was different with Daniel.  


Rorschach’s pulse slowed eventually at the physical contact. Daniel’s nearness always caused his heart to race, but they avoided touching each other. Daniel due to Rorschach’s discomfort and Rorschach due to the unclean desire to press himself into Daniel. He hated himself for recalling it when he was struggling, but the memory of Daniel holding him as his body slowly re-heated and his brain shut down. The soft goose down of the comforter, the smell of Daniel’s sweat, and his arms firmly around him like grounding poles.  


We were never hugged as a child, he criticized his affinity to Daniel, and while it had been thought out of self-hatred for his self-pity, the realization had blindsided him. He had never been hugged or felt truly safe, and Daniel gave him that.  


The warm weight of Daniel under his heels and his hand resting on his ankles made Rorschach crave the weight of his arms around him again. Made him want to fill the gap of his sexual emptiness and kiss him. He was disgusting. They were trapped living in the result of his failure. He hated himself more for finding comfort in Daniel.  
Walter took off Rorschach’s face. The movement caused Daniel to blink awake. He smiled immediately upon seeing Walter’s rusted red hair and speckled face again. Walter gritted his teeth and made himself not turn away. Daniel’s faint happiness shifted to worry.  


“Rorschach, are you okay?”  


He couldn’t speak. Daniel gently pushed his legs off of him and moved to sit next to him as Walter pulled his legs underneath him. Walter’s heart beat faster, and he stared into Daniel’s deep brown eyes, studied the widow’s peak, and his eyes again. It was punishment, forcing himself to be caught staring. Force himself to endure any animosity that Daniel felt towards him when he knew. Daniel waited, staring back into his eyes. Some of the concern had faded, but Walter wasn’t sure what was in its place. It wasn’t hatred. Walter wasn’t sure if Daniel understood.  


Walter lifted a hand carefully, like Daniel would hit him, but when nothing negative happened, he lightly pulled Daniel’s face closer. Daniel leaned forward but let Walter complete the distance on his own and kiss him. Daniel had a hand against his cheek, and the contact alone burned. Daniel’s other hand appeared in his hair, encompassing his skull gently. Daniel’s tongue slipped between Walter’s teeth, and Walter couldn’t feel himself anymore. It felt good. His groin felt tight.  


Walter pulled away. “Stop it.” Daniel removed his hands and sat back to give him space. He was so irritated at himself for it: for starting, for stopping, for allowing Daniel to touch him, for enjoying it.  


“Wait, you don’t want- Don’t.” Daniel leaned back to give him room while Walter rubbed his eyes. “I’m fucked up, Daniel.” Daniel didn’t say anything. “I was in Charlton Home. I put a cigarette out in another child’s eye. I’m the son of a whore. I have killed people. I gave up on humanity decades ago.”  


How old was he even? Too old for anything to change, too old to change, yet he no longer recognized himself. “You don’t- Don’t.”  


“I knew,” Daniel said quietly. “Maybe not the details, but I knew. It doesn’t change anything, you know? It is still you.”  


Walter stared at him uncomprehending and slightly offended.  


Daniel gave a tight smile without humor. “Your body language. I mean, it’s… pretty clear. You don’t like being touched. You don’t trust women. I mean, you named yourself after a mental health evaluation. Hollis joked a long time ago that no one normal puts on an owl suit to beat people, and he is right- was right about a lot of things. I care about you. That hasn’t changed since meeting you.”  


Walter felt a weight lift off of him, but he didn’t know what to do with it gone.  


Daniel’s eyes watched him. He asked quietly, “Do you mind if I hug you, or do you need a moment?”  


“Moment,” he managed.  


“I’ll make some tea then.” Daniel got up and padded in his wool socks to the kitchen. Sound of water from the faucet. Walter watched his form in the gray light. He knew. He could tell. Had for a while. It didn’t change.  


Daniel returned ten minutes later and set down two cups of tea, holding the handle and blowing on the top of his without attempting to drink from it yet. Walter watched him sniff the steam and smile a bit to himself before watching the fire.  


“Why?” Rorschach asked. It had been circling through his head.  


Daniel glanced at his face and returned to watching the fire. “You are very intense. Initially, I wasn’t sure about working with you, when I was younger. Thought it would be temporary, but it wasn’t. I trusted- I grew to trust you. Then you continued patrolling after the Keene Act. It took me a while of holding the torch for Laura and remembering with your conservative, erratic xenophobia and general paranoia about the world. Eventually, I realized that I missed you.”  


He turned back to Walter. “I do miss who you were when we first started. You allowed yourself to be happier. It is hard seeing someone you care about struggle without being able to help or make anything better. I quit after the Keene Act because I wanted to follow the law, and I realized that I enjoyed fight for fighting’s sake more than justice or keeping people safe. I felt disillusioned with the idea that masks could make judgements on who deserved to be hurt and how badly. But also I couldn’t stand seeing you continuing to push yourself into the ground after the Blaire Roche case. So, I left. But I’m sorry for not staying by your side.”  


The log crackled and shifted down, sending up sparks. Rorschach didn’t think Daniel knew about Blaire Roche. He remembered how angry he was after the Keene Act and how he marked the abandonment as Daniel’s weakness. How he refused to pass by the house less he run into him. With hindsight, the years seemed coated in anger and self-importance, but he had been wrong. All of his focus on stopping crime in the city, and he couldn’t save it from a much larger threat. He could only begin to accept that if he had known, Adrien Veidt would have killed him.  


“Glad you didn’t.”  


Daniel blinked and tilted his head questioning.  


“You would have changed.” After a moment of hesitating, he added, “Missed you too.”  


Daniel considered the other man. The fire was causing the bright orange of his eyebrows and hair to highlight. The brightness contrasted the grim, acne-scarred face and pale lips. The bruises under his eyes, that Daniel felt were always there. Like he had been born with too little sleep, and nothing had improved since.  


“Returning from Antarctica. When I had hypothermia...” Walter trailed off.  


Daniel tried not to remember the night because it was horrible. The destruction of the city. Laurie and John accepting Adrien’s decision, and John nearly killing Rorschach for being essentially himself about it all. Despite all of his conservative bluster, he had nearly killed himself ten times over trying to protect it from minor threats. How did John think he would react to a genocide?  
It was simply spur of the moment that he had realized what Rorschach was attempting to make John do and had rushed forward to argue the pointlessness of killing a mentally ill man wearing a trenchcoat in Antarctica.  


“Even if he could make it to New York, who would listen to him? He is a nobody!” he had shouted at the blue man. “There is no point in killing him! You don’t have to kill him.” And it didn’t matter that Adrien was discontent with the decision because Daniel had placed himself in front of Rorschach like he could actually shield him from John and Laurie had pulled John away to leave. In the process of Rorschach and Daniel screaming at each other over the other’s decisions, Adrien had apparently decided that there was no point either.  


During the walk back to Archie, Daniel suddenly processed that his argument about the unbundled man dying from hypothermia before even reaching New York Cityy was accurate, and he struggled keeping the senseless man alive during the walk. Daniel wasn’t sure which aspect Rorschach was referring to about that night, so he waited patiently for the other man to continue.  


“Could you hold me again like you did?” It was barely audible.  


Daniel thought. “When you were wrapped in my comforter?”  


The tone was clarifying. Not judgemental. Rorschach nodded without meeting his eyes.  


Daniel tugged off the blanket folded over the top of the couch. “How do you want to…?” Walter’s face had reddened. Daniel smiled slightly and shook the blanket out. “Scoot over here and put your head on my lap then.”  


Walter shot him a disapproving look but eased his head down like it was a medical procedure. Daniel tossed the blanket across him before settling his fingers into Walter’s hair and rubbing slow circles. The hair was greasy from lack of washing, but Daniel had reached the point of accepting that changes would be slow for his partner. Running his fingers through the other’s hair was a large enough change to be ruined by complaints about hygiene. Having him stay at all was a challenge.  


“You can get some sleep,” Daniel said quietly. Walter grunted a negative, but the fingers interwoven through his hair felt good. The fire and blanket were warm. He was becoming soft, away from the cold. It would make returning to patrols, the distance from Daniel, worse than if he hadn’t had come that evening.  


He couldn’t return to patrol anymore. He had failed the city. He hadn’t kept it safe. Black and white. He could no longer be Rorschach. He was Walter, weak and debris.  


Daniel rubbed his knuckles, and Walter opened his eyes to see Daniel’s tanned fingers running across his red, spotted skin. “I wish you would stay.”  


Walter tried to imagine living in the house, but it was always as a phantom. Knowing that Daniel was alive and healthy was enough to drive him to leave. Not linger or approach.  


“I am worried that you are going to die somewhere, and I wouldn’t know. I would just think that you were angry at me or caught up in a case.”  


Daniel always ruined things by talking, Walter thought, because now he wanted to leave again. He replied defensively, “Why I visit.”  


Daniel rubbed his fingertips against Walter’s scalp again, and Walter closed his eyes at the pleasant sensation. “You could stay. We are both in our forties.”  


“I’m five years older than you.” The small scrape of fingernails against his scalp felt wonderful.  


“Fifties then. Even more my point.” Walter wished he would stop talking. Daniel prattled on, “You can live like a civilian.”  


Walter opened his eyes and stared at the fire, caught in the contradictions.  


He couldn’t quit being Rorschach. He had failed as Rorschach. He didn’t want to be human, be Walter. He no longer knew what Walter was if not Rorschach’s disguise.  


He asked cautiously, “What would I do?”  


“Nothing,” Daniel answered like it was reassurance before hearing how it sounded to Walter. “You can do whatever you want, even if that involves patrol at night. I want you to live here though. So I can keep an eye on you. Make sure you eat.”  


Walter frowned. He was too old to retire. He was too old to patrol anymore. Useless. He was useless. He hated it. He gave into his weakness and let himself cry, like he had cried in the Arctic. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”  


Daniel shushed him. “You don’t have to know. Really, most people don’t know. It is alright not to know. You can just rest. Rest for a while.”  


Walter- Rorschach- He closed his eyes and let himself be held in the ruins of his city. He had failed. He couldn’t undo his failure. He was cornered, his back against the wall, unable to escape from his mistakes. But Daniel was here too, soothing him. So he slept until he could find where he could go next.


End file.
